Her fondest dream
by ylemon
Summary: Barbara and Tommy are at Howenstow to recuperate from their latest case. Unfortunately the discovery of the body of a young woman on the moor shatters their hopes of a peaceful stay. Sequel to In the name of the children.
1. First contact

Author's note: Based mostly on the novels by Elizabeth George and a bit on the TV series, the most notable points being that this is the first time Barbara goes to Howenstow and that she had never really met Tommy's family before.

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Dear Readers,

You've been following this blog on criminology for 1 year now. Thank you so much for your support and interest. To celebrate this anniversary – our anniversary – I'd like to share with you a story that happened almost 25 years ago. I heard it from its main protagonists and they are very reliable sources. As this is a special occasion I decided to treat this story in a special manner and write it down as if it were a crime novel but I can assure you that all the facts related below are true.

London, Wednesday 5 May

DS Barbara Havers was in a hurry. A cab would soon arrive to drive her to the station where she would catch the train to Redhill, Surrey. She would meet with DI Thomas Lynley at the nearby airport and he would pilot her in his own private plane to his estate in Cornwall. More exactly they would land at Land's End but that was not the point. The point was that the man had his own private plane and knew how to pilot it. After several years of partnership she used to think she couldn't be surprised by the posh side of her partner any more but she'd been wrong. _I should have known better,_ she reflected. _He can barely stand any allusion to his title of eighth earl of Asherton; no wonder he doesn't brag about his plane or his pilot's license. But why on earth did I accept his invitation to spend some days with him in his family!_ The question was purely rhetorical as she remembered only too well what had led her to accept: firstly a difficult case and the bitter feeling that they had been forced to leave the job unfinished as, if the murderer of a college teacher had been arrested, they had not been allowed to carry on their investigation of the brutal rape of a young girl; secondly the uncertainty as to her career as it was still not clear if Lynley and she would be authorized to work together again; and finally acute physical pain after the beating she'd been subjected to. She was tired emotionally and physically and she needed some rest. So when Lynley had suggested that she should come with him to his estate in Cornwall for a few days she had accepted. And that was the reason why she was packing now or rather trying to pack. She had spread on her bed almost the entire contents of her wardrobe but none of her clothes seemed appropriate for a stay in the aristocracy. She normally didn't mind being dressed any old how but she was going to be surrounded by very elegant people if Lynley's usual way to dress was any indication and she didn't even have a decent trouser suit let alone a formal gown. She was considering every item of clothing with a critical eye when the doorbell rang. The cabbie was waiting for her. She hastily threw some clothes into her rucksack without giving them another look, grabbed the present she had bought for Lynley's mother and left her bungalow.

When she arrived at the airport, Lynley was waiting for her in the lounge section of the lobby. He was reading a newspaper while sipping a coffee. He had traded his usual three piece suit for a pair of jeans and a polo shirt but was still as elegant as ever if in a more casual way. A V neck sweater hung from the back of his chair. He rose to greet her, a large smile on his face.

'Rejoice Havers. The weather's glorious. This is going to be a very nice flight. Not a single turbulence on the horizon.'

'Great. I hate it when the flight's so bumpy one cannot help but wonder if the mechanical engineers had their calculations right or if the plane is going to disintegrate.'

'Do you want to drink or eat something before we go?'

'I'd rather not, thanks.'

'Have you airsickness or is it just because I'll pilot?'

'Well, I happen to know how you're driving…Are we ready to go?'

'Yes. I came early to prepare the flight; everything's ready.'

'You've no suitcase?'

'I keep some spare clothes at Howenstow so I travel lightly. This way, Havers, no check-in needed.'

Lynley had not lied: the flight was very nice. Installed in the cockpit in the co-pilot seat Barbara was captivated by the landscape unfolding beneath the plane: the buildings and the bustle of the cities; the various shades of green of the countryside where white spots indicated flocks of sheeps; the rivers winding along. When they were at their cruising altitude and in the right direction Lynley turned to her:

'Do you want to have a try at piloting?'

'Are you mad?' she exclaimed.

He burst out laughing at her bewildered look.

'Mad? Maybe. Suicidal? No. There's absolutely no risk. You keep the same direction and the same altitude. The altimeter's here and here's the compass. See? It's easy. You won't even have to use the throttle. And I'm ready to take the controls back if needed.'

He sounded so confident she decided to give it a try. She was very tense at first, her hands clasped tightly on the control stick, her eyes fixed on the dials but after a few minutes she started to relax and she began enjoying the situation.

_I'm flying a plane,_ she marveled._ Me, Barbara Havers. I can't believe it: I'm flying a plane!_

She piloted for nearly twenty minutes with Lynley giving only the odd correction from time to time. He took back the controls when it was time to begin their descent and Barbara lost herself in the contemplation of the seaside.

'I'd like to show you something,' Lynley said.

He tilted the plane on the right and laughed when Barbara gripped her belt.

'Don't worry. I don't intend to throw you out of the plane. Look down. Here's Howenstow, right below.'

'Oh my God!' she exclaimed. 'It's big!'

'It's bigger on the inside,' Lynley replied matter-of-factly.

Barbara turned a stunned face to him.

'You're kidding?'

'Yep! But I've always dreamt of saying this,' he replied with a broad grin.

They circled around the house twice then went on to Land's End air strip.

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After a smooth landing Lynley helped Barbara take the luggage out of the plane.

'Ah! Here's Peter,' he said spotting his brother coming towards them in the old estate Land Rover.

Peter Lynley was ten years younger than his brother, with close-cropped blond hair and the tan resulting from a daily exposure to the open air. Lynley felt relief at seeing him fit and smiling. He knew his brother's demons were still hovering over him but apparently, at the moment, Peter had the upper hand on them. The two brothers shook hands warmly.

'How was your flight?' Peter asked.

'Very good. Really calm. Barbara and I even took turns piloting. She was brilliant. I plan to let her pilot all the way back to London next week,' Tommy replied as he put the suitcases at the back of the car.

Peter turned to Barbara and they both looked awkwardly at each other. The last time they had met, several years ago, Peter's girlfriend, a drug addict like him, had just died and Barbara had been sent to the scene with DI MacPherson. At the time she'd been convinced Peter had killed his girlfriend but her judgement had been clouded by the strong prejudice she'd then held against Tommy Lynley. She had made it quite clear she despised both Lynley brothers and had even been a bit disappointed when it had turned out Peter was completely innocent. To say that she was not proud of herself now would have been an understatement. As for Peter, he didn't know what to expect. He reckoned DS Barbara Havers was more than Tommy's colleague now. She ought to be a true friend of his brother's, else Tommy wouldn't have invited her to Howenstow but he too remembered the last time they had met and he wasn't sure her new frame of mind encompassed him. So they just stood there, carefully avoiding eye contact until Tommy Lynley noticed their uneasiness.

'And to think I was afraid you might pounce on each other …,' he said lightly.

As his little joke induced no reaction he chose a more direct approach.

'Look, I know your last encounter didn't went well, I was there, remember? But that was a long time ago and things have changed dramatically since; for the better.'

Still no reaction.

'Oh, come on, Peter. She's not going to bite you!' he exclaimed, sounding fairly irritated. 'She's probably tormented with remorse about what happened so shake hands and make peace.'

'Well, tormented with remorse may be a bit strong, I didn't lose any sleep over it but what about we smoke the cigarette of peace?' Barbara said tentatively. 'I've not had a fag since breakfast.'

'Sounds like a brilliant idea to me,' Peter replied with relief.

'Sounds like a ludicrous one to me,' Tommy countered.

'You didn't always say so,' Peter remarked.

'Then I quit smoking,' his brother replied as he opened the door to climb behind the wheel.

'Sometimes I wish he hadn't,' Barbara whispered to Peter.

'You bet!'

They both laughed and it seems as if there had never been any tension between them.

Barbara soon found out than Peter was far more laid-back than his older brother and they shared a few good laughs during the drive to Howenstow.

'And Sergeant, may I call you Barbara?' Peter asked at one point.

'Sure. By the way how should I address you? Are you… Lord Lynley?'

'I'm Peter and that's enough,' Peter replied laughing. 'I'm more than happy to leave all this title business to Tommy.'

'Which reminds me that I shall ask you to dump the 'Sir', Barbara. We're not at work so I'm Tommy. Got it?'

'Absolutely no!' was her answer.

'Oh, please! We've had this discussion time and time again.'

'This doesn't mean I changed my mind.'

'What's so wrong with your calling me by my name?'

'I…I just…can't.'

'Why, for God's sake?'

'It doesn't sound right. You're my superior officer, I just can't…'

'I'm not your superior officer here, Barbara. I'm your friend. We're on an equal footing.'

'Who the hell are you kidding? We're not on an equal footing. Never were, never will be, period. Sir.'

'I should have left you in London,' Lynley retorted angrily.

'Yeah. Maybe you should have,' Barbara replied on the same tone.

'Whoa, kids, calm down!' Peter interrupted. 'You won't ruin this beautiful day on such a trivial matter, will you?'

'Well the matter doesn't seem so trivial for some of us,' Tommy replied.

He knew he was sounding petty but he couldn't help it: he had been looking for these days with Barbara as a means to show her how important she was to him and that, no matter what Ardery may decide about their partnership, he would never forsake her but what was the point of all this if she couldn't see past their ranks? How to reassure her, how to make her understand she was an essential part of his life and that he'd always be by her side, at least as her friend, if she actually couldn't see him as a friend? Wait a minute…_At least as her friend?_ Tommy bit his tongue. This kind of Freudian slip had become more and more numerous lately to his increasing worry and he was afraid an unfortunate word could pass the barrier of his lips and reveal his inner thoughts. He was vaguely conscious that his feelings for Barbara were becoming stronger and more romantic than they used to be but he was still reluctant to admit he was falling for his best female friend, _again_. He tightened his grip on the wheel and focused harder on his driving as if he didn't know the road like the back of his hand.

'Well, time to bury the hatchet, you two. Here's Howenstow's lodge,' Peter said cheerfully.

Barbara looked out of the window with renewed interest as they drove up the gravel path lined with sycamore trees and rhododendrons that led to the main house. She caught a glimpse of the park delimited by low dry stone walls, of the rose garden, of the stables behind the main building. She was surprised to see cows grazing nearby. Soon they pulled up in front of the big Jacobean house. Barbara stepped outside the car and stared at the building in awe. She had seen photographs of the place before, Lynley had one in his office at New Scotland Yard, and she knew it was big but she never imagined it was _that_ big.

'Welcome to Howenstow, Barbara,' Lynley said from behind her back.

She turned to him and saw that his smile wasn't devoid of apprehension. She had the feeling he was waiting anxiously for her reaction to the sight of the house.

'Thank you, Sir.' she replied, returning his smile.

'Good morning, my lord,' a man addressed Lynley.

'Hello, Hodge. Can you please arrange for the suitcases to be brought to our rooms?'

'Of course, my lord.'

Before Barbara could object two daily maids picked up the luggage. She felt like she was in an episode of Downtown Abbey.

'This way, Barbara,' Lynley said. He put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her gently towards the front door surmounted by the Asherton coat of arms where the hound and the lion were fighting each other.

As soon as he entered the house, Lynley called out:

'Mother?'

'Tommy! I'm upstairs.'

They went to the first floor where Lady Asherton was tending to a huge bouquet of flower in a crystal vase the size of a champagne bucket. Tall and slender, she was wearing a white dress with strokes of yellow and green.

'Tommy. How good to see you. How completely unexpected also. I didn't think you were to come here for at least another three weeks.'

Lynley kissed her on the cheek.

'Yes, that's what was planned but things turned out a bit differently, Mother. As I told you on the phone, Barbara has been badly beaten up and she needs somewhere nice and friendly to recuperate. I offered her to come at Howenstow and then I thought I could as well come with her.'

'You did well, darling Tommy.'

Lady Asherton went to greet Barbara with the most pleasant smile on her face, her hand extended.

'How nice to finally meet you Detective Sergeant. I'm delighted you accepted Tommy's invitation. I'm afraid these aren't the best circumstances we could have dreamt of but at least that's a good opportunity to get to know each other better. May I call you Barbara? Detective Sergeant is a bit too formal for a nice and friendly atmosphere, don't you think. And please do call me Daze as this is the name my family and friends call me.'

Barbara was taken aback by the countess' naturalness. She couldn't tell if it was genuine or the product of her good breeding still her welcome was warm and for the moment that was enough for Barbara.

'Thank you for receiving me into your family Lady A.'

'Lady A.?' Daze repeated in surprise.

'Er…if you don't mind me calling you this.'

'Of course not, Barbara.'

'And er…this is for you,' Barbara added clumsily, offering the countess a small rectangular flat box, wrapped in red.

'Oh, thank you Barbara but you shouldn't have bought me anything. It's a pleasure to have you here.'

'It's nothing, really. I just didn't want to arrive empty-handed.'

'That's very kind of you Barbara,' Lynley said. He hadn't noticed the present and was a bit surprised that Barbara had wanted to bring something to his mother. He knew she was generous and kind in spite of all her efforts to appear cold and indifferent to others but she usually didn't show her true colours in public.

'Look at that beautiful scarf. How lovely!' Daze exclaimed at the sight of a light brown and gold scarf. 'Thank you so much, Barbara.'

'My pleasure.'

'I'm sorry Mother I haven't brought you any gift,' Lynley joked pretending embarrassment.

'Me neither,' Peter added, with a contrite look.

'Naughty boys. All those years lost on your upbringing. At least now, there's someone in this house who knows how to behave.'

'Is there any hope of refreshments before lunch, Mother?' Lynley asked. 'I'm parched.'

'I haven't planned anything special, Tommy. We'll have lunch in about an hour. Barbara, would you like me to show you to your room? I've had the green room prepared for you.'

'Thanks.'

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Barbara followed Lady Asherton along the long corridors of the house to the east wing where her bedroom was. Along the way Daze showed her the dining room where they would have lunch. Barbara tried her best to memorize the way from there to her room. She wished she'd had some bread crumbs to leave behind her like Tom Thumb. The house was huge and a true labyrinth.

'Here we are,' Lady Asherton said in front of a big wooden door in the middle of a corridor. 'Further down this corridor are Tommy's rooms. His bedroom is actually the second door after yours if you need anything. Come in.'

Barbara stepped into a large bedroom with light green wallpaper. It was furnished with a large four-poster bed, a chest of drawer, a wardrobe, and a dressing table with a stool in front of it. Barbara went to the window and saw that her room overlooked the park and its neatly mown lawn. The sight was beautiful.

'I see the maid has put away your clothes. Good. The bathroom's here and there are fresh towels on the rack. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything. Tommy's told us what happened to you and we're all determined to take good care of you.'

'Thank you, Lady A. but I don't want to be a burden.'

'Barbara, I shall be the one who says thank you. You saved my son's life and I've never had the opportunity to tell you how grateful I am for what you did.'

'Please, don't thank me. I just happened to be at the right place at the right moment. He'd have done the same for me.'

Barbara was embarrassed. Lynley and she had never talked about that night she had saved him because words weren't necessary between them, so it was the first time someone actually thanked her for her action.

'True friendship is a blessing and I'm glad you two have it. You don't seem to realize what a relief it is for me to know you're never far from Tommy. You're looking after one another and I know how much Tommy treasures your friendship.'

Barbara felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

'Well, he's a bloke all right.'

She would have slapped herself for her reply: the countess' little speech on friendship had unsettled her and the only words that had come to her mind had been this silly comment. She wondered how long it would take Lady Asherton to reconsider her opinion of her son's partner.

But Daze didn't seem to notice Barbara's un-aristocratic choice of words: she left the room and let her guest settle in.

Barbara went through the wardrobe and the chest of drawers. All her things had been neatly tidied away but still she didn't like the idea of someone rummaging through her clothes. She did a quick inspection of the bathroom. The equipment was old but in perfect working order and spotlessly clean. She checked her appearance in the mirror and pulled a face: her eye wasn't so swollen anymore but the bruises were still clearly visible, each day bringing a new colour to them. The fact that she had been beaten up was unmistakable but she counted on the Lynleys' good manners not to mention it. She was tired and couldn't decide if it was due to her current state or to the tension she had felt while flying the plane. That had been quite an experience and one she knew she'd never forget. Not sure about what to do before going to lunch and a bit hesitant to venture along the many and endless corridors of the house, she decided to wait in her room until it was lunch-time. She had been sitting motionless on the edge of the bed for nearly ten minutes when someone knocked on the door.

'Havers? Are you in there?'

She went to open the door.

'Sir?'

'Peter and I were thinking about having a game of billiards before lunch. Do you want to join us?'

'Er…I don't play billiards, Sir.'

'It's about time you learn then. Come on. You're not going to spend all day locked up in that room, are you?'

She followed him to the billiard room on the ground floor. Peter was waiting for them, billiard cue in hand. They started to play, Lynley instructing Havers in the game and how to use the cue. Was it because she was tired but she found it difficult to concentrate on the game with Lynley so close to her, and when he bent over her to correct her handling of the billiard cue while explaining in her ear which ball to strike she pleaded her broken ribs were too painful for this kind of exercise and stopped playing. She immediately wished she had given another excuse when she read concern in Lynley's eyes so she quickly reassured him by saying it was only because she had not taken her painkillers that morning.

'I wanted to see if I could do without them. I guess that's still too early. I'll take them with my lunch and I'll be fine.'

'Don't rush things, Barbara. Healing will take time', he replied.

She was about to retort '_Who's rushing things here?'_ when she noticed Peter's amused look. He was leaning on the wall, a light smile on his lips and was clearly enjoying himself. Had he noticed her emotion? Was he thinking that there was something going on between his brother and her? Well, she wouldn't give him any more food for thought. She kept mum and went to sit on a couch by the window.

The two men went on with their game until lunch time. Then all three of them went to the dining room where the table had been laid for five persons. Lady Asherton was already in the room, chatting with a weathered dark-haired man whom Lynley introduced as John Penellin, the estate manager.

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Despite all her usual boast about not being impressed by Lynley's way of living and about not caring in the least if she had the etiquette right, Barbara couldn't help being overawed by the splendour of the room. She had used before the silverware at the arms of the Ashertons and the finely engraved crystal glasses in Lynley's townhouse but she found Howenstow's dining room with its huge dimensions, its marquetry floor, its crystal chandeliers, and its French ceiling murals truly magnificent and a bit intimidating. Luckily the lunch was informal and the conversation friendly: Lady Asherton wanted to know what her eldest son had been doing since his last phone call and Peter detailed to Barbara the various activities she could enjoy during her stay.

'Apart from the obvious sightseeing, you could ride, sail or surf. Of course, you could also go to the beach but I'm not sure the sun's hot enough to have a good sunbath.'

'Peter,' Lynley interrupted, 'I'm not sure Barbara's fit enough to go riding round the countryside, painkillers or not.'

'Yeah, that may be a bit too intense for me,' she concurred, 'but thanks for the suggestion.'

'John, didn't you tell me that there were some new born lambs at Daley's farm? I'd like to go there and see how this new machine we bought for their feeding is working.'

'Yes, my lord. I was thinking of going over there myself on Friday morning. Maybe Miss Havers would like to go with us? That's going to be a lot calmer than horse riding.'

'I'd love too, yes. But why a machine to feed the lambs? Can't their mothers feed them?'

'Sometimes the ewe rejects the lamb, won't let it suck. Sometimes the ewe litters three lambs in which case we take one from her to feed it properly,' Lynley explained.

Barbara was surprised by Lynley's familiarity with the subject. This was a side of him she didn't know existed.

'Excuse-me but I must leave you now,' Penellin said rising from his chair. 'I've work to do that can't wait. If you could come to my office this afternoon, my lord, I'd like to discuss some matters with you.'

'Of course, John, I'll come,' Lynley replied.

Considering how nice the weather was, he would have preferred to make a long walk on the estate's grounds, possibly with Barbara to show her the surroundings, but he knew Penellin was counting on him. The estate manager was a very capable man but Lynley couldn't escape the responsibilities that were his as the lord of the estate.

After Penellin left they all went to the drawing room for coffee. Lady Asherton served them and then turned to Barbara.

'I'm not sure Tommy told you but on Saturday we'll host a charity fete. Nanrunnel has been badly hit by this winter's gales: several houses were damaged along with the school and the church. We've also had some damages at Howenstow, mostly on the roof and in the park but, luckily, nothing too serious. The houses and the school have been repaired in priority and now we're trying to collect some funds to help the families most severely affected. Some of them have lost everything and are now living with relatives or in temporary accommodation and Reverend Sweeney's thought about organizing a fete with various stands, you see the sort, and as he is an old family friend I offered Howenstow's park as a venue.'

'No doubt most of the money will come from the sale of drinks,' Barbara commented with a smile.

'I think you're right,' Daze continued, 'and we don't expect to earn a lot of money that way. That's why we'll also be hosting a charity dinner at Howenstow on Saturday evening. Something awfully smart, I must say, with the ticket price at £10 000. I was horrified at the price but Augusta, she's Tommy's aunt, seemed to think it was appropriate and I must say she was right as we'll have around 40 guests.'

'Some people have so much money they don't know what to make of it…'

'Don't be too harsh, Barbara, at least this time they're throwing their money away for a good cause and not on flashy cars or luxurious watches,' Peter commented.

'I don't understand what you've got against flashy cars,' his brother replied raising an eyebrow.

'Sorry Tommy, I always forget you drive one. I prefer my horses alive and whinnying.'

'You mean alive and kicking…'

'Nice one, Barbara,' Peter laughed, 'though I think the reference is lost on Tommy as is all music composed after 1920. It's a song by Simple Minds,' he explained to his brother.

'I know the song, Peter, don't try to make me sound like a Neanderthal man.'

'Well, you're older than me.'

'Older than me too', Barbara added.

'Look at her, Mother! She's not been here for 2 hours and she's already taking side against me,' Tommy protested indignantly but he immediately realized his mother wouldn't help him: she was laughing heartily.

'As you said earlier, we're not at work,' Barbara teased him.

'Not that it would make any difference.'

'Nah, probably not.'

Lady Asherton was looking at her son, fascinated. She had always found Tommy too serious. He had always had an acute sense of what was expected of him as the heir of the title and she had the feeling that this had somehow overwhelmed him. He thought he was responsible for everything that happened on the estate and in their lives, and was prone to blame himself when something bad happened even if there was really no need to. It was the first time she could see by herself the interaction between her eldest son and his partner. Seeing Tommy teasing with Barbara, grinning like a child, was so surprising she felt like she was looking at her son for the first time. She couldn't remember ever seeing him like that and she wondered if that was the only effect Barbara Havers had on him.

'Mother, will Aunt Augusta be at the diner?'

'Yes, Tommy, but she won't stay overnight. Rupert will come too. It's been such a long time since we last met.'

'Wonderful,' Lynley replied in a tone that contradicted his words.

'Tommy darling, he's your godfather.'

'I don't remember having my say in the matter.'

Lady Asherton ignored his caustic remark:

'He told me he'll come with Victoria. She's back from Italy as it seems.'

'Please, Mother, that's too many good news at the same time.'

'What's wrong with Vickie?'

'Nothing,' Lynley replied. 'She's as beautiful as a sunset on the Cornish coast…'

'And her heart's as hard as the Cornish granite.' Peter finished.

The two brothers laughed in unison.

'How can you be so cruel?' their mother exclaimed. 'Vickie is a really nice girl. I shall be glad to see her.'

'Watch out, Tommy,' Peter said, 'I guess dear old Rupert has not given up the idea of a marriage in the family.'

'And I shall be delighted to give the girl your hand,' Lynley replied tongue in cheek.

Barbara was quite surprised by Lynley's behaviour. He was not the one to denigrate anyone in public yet he clearly seemed to despise this Victoria. He must have noticed her puzzled look for he explained:

'You see, Barbara, the problem's Rupert has been pestering me into marrying Victoria, his niece, since she turned 18. I'm not in the least interested in her and I dare say she's not interested in me either. Well not in me, Thomas Lynley. Or not in Thomas Lynley, the Detective Inspector. She's a fortune hunter. Had I no title, no wealth, she wouldn't even notice me.'

'Tommy, you're unfair. Rupert's a baron and Victoria's his only relative. She's not penniless,' Lady Asherton countered in a soft voice.

'That's not the problem. I don't care if she has money or not. That's not money I'm looking for. That's love. True, heartfelt love. It doesn't matter if she's rich or not; if she has a title or not. There's no need for her to be upper class either. I just want someone who'd love me, Tommy Lynley, be I Lord Asherton or not. Vickie's not that person. If Peter was the eighth earl, she'd throw herself at him, not at me. I'm not interested in that kind of person. She won't make me happy.'

'That's a terrible picture you're drawing of the poor girl, Tommy darling,' his mother said, in defense of Vickie.

Her son looked at her pensively.

'I've never told you because I didn't feel like talking to anyone about that but… you remember she came for Helen's burial…, well, she tried to seduce me then.'

A look of horror passed on Lady Asherton's face. Lynley continued:

'She tried to conceal it under the veil of compassion and worry about me but she bloody made a pass at me. Her way of comforting me for…my loss…was suggestive.'

'Tommy, I'm so sorry. I didn't know.'

'I know, Mother, and I don't blame you but you should be aware that little Vickie's not what she seems to be. I was overwhelmed with grief and all she saw was that she could turn the death of my wife and son to good account.'

Lynley finished his coffee and went to Barbara who had been scrutinizing a painting on the wall as if she had wanted to deduce the painter's technique from the brushstrokes. He knew her well enough though to know that she had most certainly been embarrassed by the sudden private turn of the conversation and that she wasn't all that much interested in the painting but rather trying to keep her mind focused on something else than on what he was saying.

'You like Turner?' he asked.

The question startled her.

'Sorry?'

'Do you like Turner's painting?'

She had a look back at the painting.

'That's a Turner?'

'It is.'

She took the time to really study the painting before answering:

'Yes, I like it but I'll have to turn down any offer to give it to me. It wouldn't match well with the rest of my interior decoration.'

'We shall keep it here, then,' Lynley replied, smiling broadly.

Lady Asherton watched them with interest. She appreciated how Barbara had swiftly turned Tommy's mood. She heard Tommy explain some of the other paintings in the room until Barbara yawned.

'All right. I get the message,' he jested, 'I'm boring you to death.'

'Not at all,' she protested feebly, 'but I haven't had a good night sleep since I've been injured. It's not easy to find a good position in bed when every inches of one's body aches.'

'Why don't you take a nap? Have some rest while I work with John and after, if you feel like it, I can give you a tour of the estate. The walk to the cove is really nice.'

Barbara shot a glance at Lady Asherton and Peter who were now conversing on the sofa. Lynley noticed it and said simply:

'Barbara, you're here to recuperate. Everybody here knows that you need some rest. Make yourself at home and have all the sleep you need.'

'Ta.'

'Let's meet in the library when you're ready.'

Barbara rolled her eyes.

'And _where_ is the library?'

Lynley explained her where to find the room.

'Have you a map or something I can use to find my way around here?' Barbara asked in exasperation.

Lynley laughed.

'You've no need of a map. I trust your sense of direction: you'll find your way around the house soon enough.'

'Yes, and the minute after it'll be time to go back to London.'

'Then you'll have to come back here to test your memory.'

'I don't plan to make Howenstow my second home, Sir.'

'Never say never, Havers.'


	2. A new turn

Author's note: Sorry for the endless delay due to some health problems that have kept me away from my laptop for many weeks.

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Dear Readers, part 2 of the blog/novel. Thank you for the very kind reviews of the first chapter. Some of you were puzzled by the lack of crime (strange isn't it in a blog on criminology?) but don't worry it'll come in time. I want to set the stage correctly and to do so I'll use this chapter (and the next one also). Please, bear with me. xxx

Barbara went straight to bed. As the afternoon was warm she opened the window to let some air enter the room. She undressed and slipped into bed. The mattress was extremely comfortable and the sheets soft on her skin. Lying in a four-poster bed in such a large and beautiful bedroom she remembered how, as a little girl, she used to dream of being a princess. Then her brother's long and painful death had taught her the hard way that life wasn't for dreamers so she had hardened her heart and never allowed herself to dream again. But there it was easy to indulge in her old reverie for it was a bedroom truly worthy of a princess, at the heart of an old aristocratic mansion. It was so different from her bedroom at her parents' home with its worn fitted carpet, its faded wallpaper she hid under the posters of her favorite rock bands. She wondered if a young Tommy Lynley pinned up posters on his bedroom walls at Howenstow or at Eton. What could a young aristocratic boy dream of? Fancy cars? Cricket stars? Actresses? A gentle breeze was playing in the curtains, bringing the scent of the sea and the noises from the garden where two gardeners were tending to the flowers. Slowly she drifted off to sleep.

She woke up to the sound of a laughter she knew very well. She went to the window and smiled at the sight of a dishevelled Lynley playing with a retriever pup. The dog was running at full speed behind a tennis ball Lynley had thrown. When catching it the dog stopped abruptly and felt head over heels. Lynley roared in laughter, angling his head backwards. Under the sun his hair was streaked with gold. Not for the first time Barbara thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. A stronger gush of wind moved the window and, from the corner of his eye, Lynley caught the reflection of the sun in the panes. He turned around and saw Barbara in shorts and tank top by the window. _Since when has she dumped her awful __pyjamas__?_ he thought. The view of his scantily dressed partner unnerved him a bit. He hadn't expected to find DS Barbara Havers sexy. He realized she was a master at hiding her most feminine assets beneath multiple layers of ill-fitting clothes.

'I'm sorry we've waken you, Barbara, but this little scoundrel needed some exercise,' he said pointing the dog out.

'It's OK, Sir. I feel better now. What about this guided tour you proposed to give me?'

'Get dressed and we're off.'

She joined him in the garden. The dog greeted her with a joyful yelp, wagging his tail so energetically his whole body was moving to the rhythm. She patted him on the head and he dropped his tennis ball at her feet.

'Looks like Teddy has adopted you,' Lynley remarked.

'Dogs have a sure instinct.'

She took the ball and threw it away. Lynley appreciated the length of the throw.

'You're moving better. You couldn't have thrown the ball this far some days ago.'

'True enough. My ribs don't hurt as much. Where are we going?'

'You'll see.'

They crossed the grounds and followed a trail through the woods. Huge rhododendrons lined the path and Barbara wished she'd come to Howenstow a bit later in the season when they'd be in full bloom. The path led them by an old river mill – _My __favourite__ hiding place as a boy_, Lynley commented – and then finally they reached the top of a cliff. From there a steep trail descended to a small sandy beach with crystalline water. They went down, Lynley offering his hand to Barbara to negotiate the most slippery part of the trail. They arrived on the beach and took off their shoes and socks burying their feet into the warm sand. Barbara went closer to the sea while Lynley stayed behind.

'So you've your own private beach,' she said as she reached the limit between wet and dry sand.

'And my own private favourite rock,' Lynley replied.

She turned to him and saw that he was perched on top of a flat granite rock by the foot of the cliff, arms wide open and eyes closed. He had taken off his polo shirt to expose his skin to the sun.

'Peter's wrong,' he continued, 'the weather's perfect for sunbathing. Sunny and not too hot.'

Barbara thanked whatever God there might be that Lynley's eyes were shut for she found it impossible to divert her gaze from his flat stomach and his well-chiseled torso. No six-pack stomach for him, no bulging muscle but a firm and appealing body. His chest rose as he took a deep breath of salty air and Barbara felt a burst of desire. She bit her lower lip and her eyes moved downward to the bulge in Lynley's jeans.

Lynley could feel her prying eyes all over his body. It was stupid of him to show off his physique, he knew it, but he couldn't clear his mind of the sight of Barbara standing at the window with very little to cover her body. She had aroused him, albeit unwillingly, and that was his way of getting even.

'Aaah! It's cold!'

At the sound of Barbara's cry he quickly opened his eyes.

A wave, stronger than the others, had reached her feet and the bottom of her trousers.

'Look at me, I'm drenched!'

'That's what happens when one gets too close to the sea. Weren't you watching your feet?' he asked mischievously as he jumped off the rock.

He could see her turning crimson and couldn't help a feeling of satisfaction: he'd been right, she'd been looking at him.

'I thought I was far enough.'

'The seventh wave…'

'What's that?'

'Something my grand-father taught me. He used to say that every seven waves there's a wave a bit stronger than the others.'

'Looks like he was right. I should have brought a towel.'

Lynley drew out his handkerchief.

'You can use this. Fresh and neatly ironed.'

Barbara looked suspiciously at the white handkerchief, where an A was embroidered in a corner.

'I didn't use it,' Lynley clarified.

'I know,' Barbara replied, slightly annoyed that he didn't understand what bothered her. 'I'm not concerned I'll have your snot on my toes. But it looks way too precious to be used to dry my feet.'

'So it's not too precious for my snot but it is for your feet? Don't be stupid,' he replied curtly.

She shot him a dark look but didn't reply. She snatched the handkerchief from his hand and went to sit on a nearby rock. Lynley put his polo shirt back on. They were both sullen. As if in echo to their gloomy mood, dark rain clouds appeared on the horizon, masking the sun, lowering the temperature.

'Hurry up Havers or we're in for a cold shower.'

They walked briskly back to Howenstow. The rain started to fall before they reached the dry stone wall encircling the garden and they sprinted the last hundred yards to the main door. When they reached it they were both soaked through.

'My…God…,' Barbara panted. 'And that was… a short sprint…I need to… get in shape.' She burst into a wheezing cough.

'I told you…Quit smoking…'

'I'm… ignoring you.'

'You weren't ignoring me…on the beach…' Lynley replied, grinning.

Barbara looked at him, eyes wide open in embarrassment. _He knows_, she thought. Her mind raced to find a way out but could only find two options: either disappear from the surface of the earth immediately or stand up to Lynley. She opted for the bravado.

'It was difficult not to look; you were strutting about like a peacock.'

'I wasn't,' Lynley replied, slightly offended.

'Yes, you were.'

'No, I wasn't.'

'Yes, you were and I won't replay the argument sketch [1] with you. Now if you'll excuse me I'd like to change before I catch a cold.'

At those words, she turned heel and took the stairs to the first floor leaving behind her a rather bewildered Lynley.

'A very strong-minded woman,' an amused voice said behind him.

He turned to face his mother coming at him.

'Don't make it sound as if it were a good thing, Mother.'

'Be a good loser, Tommy, she bested you. She has character and that's not a bad thing when one has to be around you.'

'What do you mean?' Lynley asked, cut to the quick.

"My dear Tommy, you're not the easiest person to deal with. You can be charming and well-behaved but you've quite a character of your own. But you'd better follow Barbara's advice and get some dry clothes: you're dripping on a 17th-century floor."

As he climbed the stairs he could hear his mother chuckle: "A peacock!"

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Lynley took a quick hot shower to warm up. He wasn't happy with himself. Things were rapidly getting out of hands. He had invited Barbara Havers to spend some days at Howenstow with him thinking it would be like what it used to be when, in the past, he invited Simon and Helen. He had told himself Barbara needed to recuperate and it was an opportunity to spend some time off work with a friend. His concern about her well-being was genuine: she was a close friend, someone he loved and respected. But now he was wondering if his desire to be at Howenstow with Barbara, away from work, away from the constraints of their respective lives in London, was really disinterested. For many years he had tried to show her that she could count on him whatever the situations life would throw on her path; that he'd be there to help her, comfort her but it was not an easy task. He didn't know the whole story but he knew its consequences: Barbara kept herself to herself, not believing anyone could really care about her, wary that any display of concern for or interest in her was, at best a deception, or at worst motivated by one's self-interest. Gaining her trust, making her understand she could rely on him had taken time and he'd made his share of mistakes in the process so he knew he needed to act with caution if he wanted this trust to last. That was the reason why his little showing-off on the beach had been a stupid thing to do even if Barbara had not been impervious to his charm. She knew he had once been a womanizer - that was one of the things she had held against him when they weren't partners yet - so if she had the impression that he was trying to seduce her into a brief fling he would lose her trust for good. Still, he couldn't deny that for some time he had had some weird feelings for Barbara. When the superintendent had forbidden them to work together on the pretext that they were unmanageable when they were together, Barbara and he had seen a lot of each other outside of the Yard and Lynley couldn't help but wonder if it was then that he had started to see Barbara from a different perspective, one not related to work. He had moved heaven and earth to have her on the Follett case and had enjoyed every bit of their collaboration but it had felt different than what it used to be. Actually, he'd felt so attracted to her he had almost asked her to sleep with him. He had put that impulse down to too much weariness but he wasn't so sure anymore. When he had touched her this morning in the billiard room, scented the smell of her hair, touched the softness of her skin, he had felt waves of electricity shot across his whole body. He needed to find if it was love he felt and, if it was, if it was requited love. But, when doing so, he'd have to be extremely cautious. He used to say Barbara Havers was a minefield and he still believed it. He stepped out of the bathroom and opened his wardrobe to retrieve some dry clothes. He examined himself closely in the mirror that lined the interior of the wardrobe door. _Not too bad for a man nearing forty_, he thought, _but was it really necessary to strip in front of Barbara like a lustful teenager?_

Barbara was considering packing up and going back to London. This stay in Howenstow was definitely a very bad idea: it seemed to intensify her feelings towards Lynley. The proximity of the inspector had never been a problem before. They used to spend long hours together alone in confined places: his office, his car, sometimes even his bedroom or hers for a debrief when they were away from London and it had never felt awkward to do so. They were both totally comfortable in each other's presence, no feeling involved except respect and friendship, no sexual tension between them. True it had become harder lately to keep pretending she didn't fancy him but she had managed to behave as usual when he was around. But away from the formal environment of work she found it difficult to maintain her façade of indifference towards Lynley. The armour she wore to protect herself from feeling anything was crumbling down. She didn't know why. He was his usual self, completely oblivious to the effect he had on her. Or was he? His closeness in the billiard room, his stripping in front of her, weren't they meant to titillate her? _Probably no_, she reflected. _He sees me as a mate. I'm not even sure Tommy ever noticed I'm a woman._ _Lynley,_ she corrected herself immediately. _He's Lynley. Not Tommy. Lynley. DI Lynley. Sir. _Reciting this little mantra of hers she stepped into the bathtub. She remained in the hot water until her fingertips were completely wrinkled adding more hot water when she started to feel cold. The hot bath seemed a luxury to her who only had a shower. Unexpectedly Lynley's words came back to her: _It doesn't matter if she's rich or not; if she has a title or not. There's no need for her to be upper class either. I just want someone who'd love me, Tommy Lynley. Tommy…_

_Aaarr_! she groaned, shaking her head violently to clear her mind. _Don't pay attention to what he said, Barbie, _she admonished herself_. He needs someone educated, who wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb among the upper crust. Sure enough she doesn't need to be upper class - Deborah wasn't - still that doesn't mean she can be anyone. She can't be you._

She dried herself energetically, rubbing her face hard with the towel to get rid of the salty water that had flown from her eyes to her cheeks. She put on a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt with a quote from Churchill: If you're going through hell, keep going; took several deep breaths and braced herself for the next encounter with Lynley. She could afford no more lapses during her stay at Howenstow. Once Lynley and her would be back in London it would be easier. Sunday evening and the flight home couldn't arrive too soon.

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As if in tacit agreement Barbara and Lynley reverted to their old habits made of quiet complicity, joyful banter and vociferous arguments to the great amusement of Peter and the great surprise of Lady Asherton who couldn't remember seeing her eldest son behaving like that. Lynley and Barbara spent a lot of time together, either on the estate or touring the region. Tommy always made sure Barbara had the rest she needed but he wanted to show her the beauty of this part of Cornwall. He was vaguely aware than people in Nanrunnel and on the estate were eyeing Barbara with curiosity, obviously wondering who she was and if she was his girlfriend. He didn't mind their looks and was relieved to notice that Barbara didn't seem to mind them either. She was cheerful and seemed to enjoy the company of both Peter and Lady Asherton. She still had some difficulties to cope with Howenstow though. The sheer size of the house, its numerous rooms furnished with luxurious items, the ever present reminder through paintings and photographs that the present occupiers of the estate where walking in the path of a long line of Lynleys, the number of people working there: gardeners, cooks, daily maids supervised by a solemn butler were overwhelming her. She had always boasted that she didn't care but the truth was she wasn't prepared for all this. The Lynleys were doing their best to make her feel at ease, to make her see Howenstow as a family house – a very big one, yet a family house – but she felt better outside of the house. Luckily for her the weather was on her side and the rain didn't reappear. Usually, when they had lunch at Howenstow, Barbara would take a quick nap after lunch while Lynley worked with John Penellin. Then they would make a long walk or Lynley would drive her around for a bit of sight-seeing. He was very considerate towards her, even more than he used to, and she couldn't help but feel flattered. He offered her his hand whenever he thought she might slip, he often touched her arm to draw her attention to a particular spot in the landscape, and he gently put his hand on the small of her back to direct her past him. His touch was always light and brief but, to Barbara's dismay, it soon began to send shivers down her spine. She didn't dare hope these repeated physical contacts meant something for Lynley but after the visit to Daley's farm it couldn't be denied there was something going on between them that wasn't there before.

The visit to the farm had been delayed to Friday afternoon. While Lynley and Penellin were talking with the farmer, his wife had held out a bottle of milk to Barbara asking her if she wanted to feed one of the lambs that didn't accept the feeding machine. So Barbara had crouched down on the straw in the box and fed the little animal as if it were a child. The lamb was hungry and drank its milk voraciously, settling itself into Barbara's arms to have a better access to the bottle. At one point Barbara noticed Lynley's eyes on her. He was leaning on the fence of the box and was watching her, smiling tenderly.

'Training for when you have children of your own?'

'I'm afraid it's too late for me, Sir,' she replied with regret in her voice.

'You're still young.'

'Well, time is ticking by and I haven't found their father yet so no I don't think I'll ever be a mother. A step-mother in the best case.'

He didn't reply but looked at her with an intensity she had never seen in his eyes before. She felt a wave of heat submerge her. It was soft and tender and really strong. The message Lynley's eyes were conveying talked of love and it seemed so natural that it didn't scare her. She let his gaze envelop her, giving her a sense of completeness and of well-being. She knew she would always be safe under that gaze. She locked eye with Lynley and smiled at him. His smile broadened into a big grin and she unconsciously returned it to him. The moment was spoiled by the lamb that had finished its milk and vigorously wrestled its way out of Barbara's arms, making her fall backward on her bottom. In a split second Lynley was by her side, offering her his hand to rise.

'You can manage three thugs but not one small lamb, Sergeant?'

'Too cute to be punched; I didn't have the same scruple with Robbie Jones and Co.'

She took his hand and got up. She brushed her clothes to get rid of the wisps. Lynley drew closer to her and pass his hand through her hair. Her heart ran faster and she felt a big lump in her throat.

'Here you are,' he said, showing her two wisps that had been entangled in her hair. 'Spick and span.'

'Ta.'

'Looks like Lord Asherton can't stand widowhood much longer, eh,' the farmer quipped to his wife and Penellin who were watching the scene from the entry of the barn.

'She's not a lady though. D'you know where they met Mr. Penellin?' his wife asked the estate manager who just shrugged and replied curtly:

'That's none of my business and it certainly isn't yours.'

But underneath his rough exterior, John Penellin was happy for Lynley. He didn't know exactly what was going on between Lord Asherton and his Met colleague but it was obvious to everyone but them that there was more than friendship between them. Barbara Havers was a peculiar woman but from what Penellin had seen during these past few days she was a nice lady. He had been surprised to hear how she sometimes replied to Lord Asherton without any regards for his rank or for his title. She always called Lynley 'Sir' but she told him things in a way Penellin, even after more than 25 years spent working for the Lynleys, would never allow himself. Lynley and she had argued quite loudly in the car about some restaurant bill Lord Asherton had paid while Miss Havers had gone to the toilet. It seemed _she_ had invited him and wasn't happy he had paid. But the looks they were now exchanging in the barn were telling another story. Even from where Penellin stood he could feel the strength of the bond between them. He wondered idly what was holding them back but as he has stated, perhaps a bit brusquely, it was none of his business.

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They drove back to Howenstow late in the afternoon. They left Penellin at the door of the estate's lodge and Lynley went to park the car in the courtyard near the stables.

'Tommy darling!'

A gorgeous young woman with long curly chestnut hair, and grey eyes, clad in a designer dress that highlighted her slenderness was coming in their direction, arms wide open. A large smile was parting her voluptuous lips.

'Hello Victoria.'

Lynley's tone was polite but cold. Victoria didn't seem to notice and kissed him on the cheek.

'Oups! Sorry Tommy, I've put some red on your cheek. Let me clean you.'

She sensually licked her index finger and was about to clean the stain on Tommy's face but he already had rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand.

'Don't worry, Victoria, I can take care of that myself. Let me make the introductions: Barbara, here's Lady Victoria Worthington. Victoria, here's Miss Barbara Havers, a friend of mine.'

Victoria turned her head in Barbara's direction and unashamedly looked her up and down. It was obvious she was gauging the risk posed by another woman in Tommy's vicinity. She seemed to regard the risk as low and it was true that with some remaining wisps in her hair and dry mud on her Wellingtons and on the bottom of her threadbare cord Barbara wasn't at her best. Victoria nodded at her.

'Nice to meet you. So you're one of Tommy's friends? It's a shame he never told me about you. Are you close?'

'Very close,' Lynley replied curtly before Barbara could utter a word.

'Oh, really?' Victoria said eyeing Barbara suspiciously. 'If you say so…'

She turned her head back to Tommy, with a carefully studied move that made her silky hair shimmer. She smiled at him, slipped her hand under his arm and took Tommy towards the house, chatting joyfully.

'I'm so delighted to be here at Howenstow! This charity diner is a splendid idea. I hope I won't be too far from you at the table, I'd like to tell you about all the wonders I've seen in Italy…'

Alone in the courtyard, Barbara glowered at the door through which they have just disappeared.

'OK. Breaking news: I hate this woman!'

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They went to the drawing room. Lady Asherton was seated on a sofa next to a man about her age. He got up as they entered the room. He was rather small, with grey hair and gold-rimmed spectacles, and was wearing a navy-blue suit and a red cravat.

'Look who's joining us, Uncle Rupert,' Victoria said.

'Hello Tommy.'

'Rupert.'

The two men shook hands coldly.

'And here's…' Victoria turned to Barbara 'Sorry, I've forgotten your name…'

'Rupert, let me introduce you Miss Barbara Havers. Barbara, here's Lord Rupert Worthington,' Lynley interrupted.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Havers.'

'Hello.'

'How was your visit to the Daleys, Tommy?' Lady Asherton asked.

'Really interesting, Mother. And Barbara made a new friend.'

'To be franck, the lamb was more interested in the feeding bottle than in me.'

'I see,' Lady Asherton laughed. 'You'll tell us more about it at diner.'

'Unfortunately Mother, Barbara and I won't join you tonight. It's the last evening we can spend by the sea so I've booked a table in Penzance.'

'What a pity, Tommy,' Victoria exclaimed, 'I was really looking forward to spending the evening with you.'

'I'm really sorry, Victoria, but honestly I didn't expect you today.'

'I couldn't resist the delight of an additional evening in the company of my dear Daze,' Lord Worthington replied gallantly.

'If you would excuse us, Barbara and I need to change clothes before we go out.'

'Of course, Tommy,' Lady Asherton replied, hiding her surprise.

Tommy hadn't told her about his evening out and she was pretty sure it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Three quarter of an hour later, Barbara and Lynley were riding towards Penzance.

'Sir, may I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

'You didn't really book a table in Penzance, did you?'

'I've always said you're a good copper, Sergeant.'

'Running away from Victoria, aren't you?'

'Not really glorious, I know.'

'I suppose no but you've a good excuse. 10 minutes with _Lady Victoria_ and it was already more than I could endure.'

'I'm sorry to impose Rupert and her on you.'

'Not your fault. How did you meet?'

'Father befriended Rupert at Eton. They got on well together and they stayed in contact even after university. In the whole, the story is quite similar to my own friendship with St James. Rupert was at my parents' wedding and he became my godfather. He and his wife never had children. He's a widower now and Victoria is his only relative still alive. She's like a daughter to him. He never made a secret that he'd love to see me marry her and I'm sure he broached the subject with my father but Father married for love and he was strongly determined to let his children do the same. I guess Rupert never lost hope though and now that I'm single again he goes back on the attack.'

'A nice fellow…'

'Indeed. Rupert still lives in the 19th century. He hasn't understood the world has changed and the aristocracy needs to change too or it'll become totally anachronistic.'

'It already is.'

'I know what you think, Barbara, but that's not that simple. It's not black or white but a large variety of shades of grey. And my shade of grey is at the other end of the spectrum from Rupert's. You may not like who I am or how I live but trust me that's nothing compared to Rupert's way of life.'

'I've no problem with you!' Barbara exclaimed. She added, blushing slightly: 'I couldn't have worked with you all those years if I didn't like you.'

Lynley smiled.

'What happened to the pompous aristocratic ponce?'

'You remember?'

'It's hard to forget.'

She didn't reply immediately. When she did it was with a sincerity that disarmed Lynley.

'I guess I learnt to see the man beneath the aristocratic veneer and liked what I saw. But, you know, you can still be a pompous aristocratic ponce at times. The difference is that now you're _my_ pompous aristocratic ponce. I wouldn't change you for the world.'

Lynley braked abruptly and pulled up on the grassy verge of the road. He turned to her, his face pale with emotions.

'I think that's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever told me, Barbara.'

'Don't let it go to your head,' she replied feeling slightly ill at ease suddenly.

'No risk, it went straight to my heart.'

She looked into Lynley's eyes. His gaze was so intense it was almost hypnotic. Barbara's heart started beating faster. They were staring into each other's eyes and Barbara knew that Lynley was going to kiss her. Her most secret, fondest dream was about to come true…. and she got cold feet. She broke the eye contact and asked, sounding more detached than she was feeling:

'Have you any idea where we're going to eat or will we have to make do with fish and chips on the harbour?'

Lynley was taken aback by her reaction. Surely she knew he wanted to kiss her and he was almost certain she was feeling the same for him than he was feeling for her. So why break such a romantic atmosphere with such a trivial question? Could it be that he'd been wrong? That he'd misread all the signals that he thought she'd been sending him for the past four days? Had there been any signal at all or had he dreamt the whole situation? Despite his numerous former lovers he knew he wasn't good at understanding a woman's heart and mind and Barbara Havers was the most indecipherable of all the women he had ever met. He eyed her for a few more seconds but she offered him only her profile so he changed into first gear and drove in silence to Penzance.

The diner went off in a heavy silence. Barbara was avoiding Lynley's gaze. She answered in monosyllables to his desperate attempts to establish a conversation. Tommy was baffled. All the week he'd felt that the bond between them, which had strengthened over the past few months since Ardery had forbidden them to work together, was getting even stronger. A new intimacy had been born, probably favoured by their being far from London and from work. But tonight he was facing the Barbara Havers of their first investigation together: she was on the defensive, withdrawn into herself like a turtle, and he was worried. He wasn't going to let seven years of his life go to waste, he wasn't going to lose this extraordinary woman. If she didn't love him, so be it, he'd be happy just being her friend. He could do that, that's what he was doing with Deborah. But he couldn't afford to lose Barbara, she had taken such a big place in his life. Helen's death had already severed him of a big part of himself, he wouldn't even think of the void Barbara could leave behind her. But maybe all wasn't lost after all. Absorbed in her thoughts Barbara had dropped her guard and her face was mirroring her inner thoughts. Lynley could see her alternate between the grumpiest face and the loveliest smile. For him, who was used to seeing her imperturbable, stone-faced during questionings this was new and fascinating. He knew his future depended on the outcome of Barbara's internal conflict and he wondered how he could tip the scales in his favour.

'I've appreciated those few days in your company, Barbara.'

No reaction. Barbara was fiddling with her carrot cake. He took her hand. She jumped and looked at him but she didn't try to escape his touch.

'I've really appreciated those days in your company, Barbara. I'd like to go on seeing you when we're back in London.'

'Of course you'll be seeing me. We work in the same place.'

'I'm not talking about the Yard, Barbara. I mean I want to see you on our free time, in the evenings, at weekends.'

'You want to resume our evenings at the pub?'

'For example. Then, I don't know, maybe we could go to an exhibition, to the museum, to the zoo if you want. We could have a picnic, go to the seaside. Whatever you want. I'm sorry to say I don't know what you like to do on your spare-time.'

'I usually do what I don't have the time to do during the week: I do the shopping, the laundry, the housework. I don't have a Denton to do my chores.'

Sarcasm…

It wasn't ideal but Lynley knew it had to be that way. It was always the first thing to come back to Barbara after a period of turmoil. The first step had been done.

'I want to go out with you, Barbara. I'll lend you Charlie if you want.'

She turned her attention back to her cake. Tommy squeezed her hand.

'Barbara…'

'I'm not sure it's a good idea, Sir,' she replied without looking at him.

'What about we give it a try? I'm not asking you to marry me tomorrow, only to spend a bit more time with me. Time will tell us if it was a good idea. I…I think we can make it work, Barbara. I'll do everything to make it work.'

'It'll never work. I bet it won't be two months before you realize you've done the biggest mistake of your life.'

'Barbara…'

'It's alright with you or with your family but I won't fool anybody at one of your social events. I'll make you feel ashamed before half the cucumber sandwiches are gone. I know nothing about your world, its code, its lingo. I know nothing about classical music. I can't tell your Turner from your Constable. I read only airport novels; they give my neurons a rest. I'd never know what to say but maybe that'd be just as well: this way I wouldn't put my foot in my mouth.'

'Helen did it all the time. It was lovely.'

"Yeah, sure. It's lovely coming from an earl's daughter with exquisite manners. Coming from a working class girl it's a sure sign of a lack of education.' She went on, mimicking a posh accent: "Poor girl, she only went to a comprehensive school, you know, you have to forgive her. But I don't understand why Lord Asherton brought her along."

'That's ridiculous, Barbara. You're not stupid and if you didn't approach everyone with a title with contempt and prejudice you might even find that some of them are decent people.'

_God. How come they always ended arguing at one point or another? _

'So you think all those people who paid £ 10 000 to dine at Howenstow tomorrow evening just can't wait to spend the evening with me? They're coming for the Earl and the Dowager Countess of Asherton not for the servants.'

'You're not a servant, Barbara! You're my very special guest. Someone extremely dear to my heart and I'm ready to let everybody knows what you mean to me.'

Barbara opened her mouth to protest but Lynley didn't let her talk. He added with a light smile:

'Moreover, Mother has showed me the seating plan and you're extremely lucky. I'm jealous. You'll have Peter on your right and, more important, you'll be seated opposite to Lady Alice Rhys-Fitzwilliam. You're going to love Lady Alice. She's an exceptional woman. I'm sure by the end of the dinner you'll swear only by her.'

'If you like her so much why isn't she sitting near you?' Barbara asked acidly, feeling a twinge of jealousy.

'Peter and I used to fight over who would be seated near her so we reached a compromise: we take turns. Tomorrow it's Peter's turn.'

'I didn't know there'd be a big dinner. I've nothing to wear.'

'Oh please, you can find a better excuse. Do your best with the clothes you brought with you, that'll be more than enough.'

'You'll regret your invitation. I told you I'll make you feel ashamed.'

'You never made me feel ashamed, Barbara, and believe me it won't happen any time soon.'

He was smiling tenderly at her and Barbara felt all her resistance melt away.

They finished their dinner and went back to Howenstow. They entered through the northwest door and reached their rooms unnoticed. They stopped in front of Barbara's bedroom.

'Good night, Sir.'

'Good night, Barbara. Sweet dreams. And give a thought or two to my offer.'

He bent over and kissed her cheek near the corner of her mouth. He moved back slightly and added mischievously, looking into her eyes:

'And if you reach the conclusion that you care about me as much as I care about you, my room is the second after yours.'

On these words he left and entered his bedroom while Barbara was turning crimson to the roots of her hair.

* * *

[1] One of the Monty Python's sketches.


End file.
